Inside, you find a small Mechanicus shrine, embedded between a rectangular formation of Columns. The omnipresent golden cogwheel occupies nearly every spot available for ornaments and little cyberskulls are buzz around, maintaining the shrines primary systems.

The Fabricworld born Vostroyans give them no heed as they sweep the room with veteran precision. Everything seems normal, apart form a hunched figure, clad in Techpriest Robes. Slowly, your men come to halt before the figure, fifteen target lasers hovering over the hood.

You step between the columns, eyeing the figure: "By Order of the Ordos Pacificus. Surrender Yourself or suffer the consequences!"

The figure raises its head slowly. In the darkness under the hood, two red stars fix you. You flinch unwillingly as the chambers vox speakers begin to growl with a mechanic Voice:

"You have no power here, servant of the corpse god. You all will burn and your deaths will heal the Omnissiah from your decrepit influence."

Suddenly, the column nearest to you bursts and a giant, naked figure jumps into the room. With a quick Glance you recognize the amputated forearms, the implanted Neural Whips and the pericervical adrenaline injectors.

"ARCO-FLAGELLANT!"

Hearing Locke's scream, you are already diving sideways, out of the Stampede of the killing machine. Men cry behind you and your back is spattered with some warm liquid. Your soldiers instantly open fire on the thing, burning its torso with Shots from the HE-Las Rifles. You add shots from your bolt pistol to the cascade. Although some of the Shots miss their target, most burn home, inflicting griveous wounds on the Flagellants Chest.

"FULL AUTO BOYS. KILL IT."

Your sergeants last words. As soon as he utters the order, the thing swings around, sophisticated target analyzers identifying the troop leader. He is courageous, you have to leave him that, as he jumps into the meele, power sword drawn. An instant passes and he flies back. In Pieces.

The Men bellow and pepper the thing with Full Auto Salvos. Desperately you have to recognize that they are doing little Damage.

"Locke! Use that Plasma-Gun!"

Almost instantly you regret your decision, as a adrenaline fueled killing machine storms around to end you. Reaching deeply into your mind you pull on that point in your consciousness, now feeling like a sore wound, thanks to your new implant.

Ice particles coat the things legs, hindering its progress, pulling it to the ground. You cry in pain as the implant punishes your cortex for using your powers. Although the pain is unbelievable, the prospect of certain **** is even the more unpleaseant, and you continue to halt the things progress. The Soldiers lie in with new salvos, now aimed at the Killing Machine's **** backside, blowing off support tubes and Injector implants. As your consciousness begins to fade from the pain, Locke finally brings his Plasma gun to bear, vaporising the things head in the last possible moment.

There is no pause for you as you storm through the corridors of the Cloning complex. Puzzled looking Servitor Units fly by, as your team races past, following the heretic tech adept. The Heretic is fast, moving on some kind of mechandrite tentacles hidden beneath his robes. The speed of the flight has swung back his hood, revealing a baldly shaved, maskuline skull, beset with two optic implants.

As he reaches the end of the complex long before you, you begin to sense fatigue. This prosecution is lasting too long and he is too fast. A few more moments and your team will lose the asset. Suddenly, the Tech Adept slams his fist into a control lectern on the side of the door and the hatch buzzes open. He pauses to give your team a contemptful gaze, at least as contemptful as possible for a priest of Mars, knowing you will not reach him in time.

As he turns towards the exit, he finds Ri'ven sticking his pistol between his teeth.

"Your file is deleted."

*BLAM*